


Work Song

by TwistedType



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedType/pseuds/TwistedType
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet inspired by Hozier's Work Song. Every time I hear it I think of Charlotte and Bass. I needed to put that vision into words. Cross-posted on FF.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Song

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write to fic based off of Hozier's Work Song. Every time I hear of it I think of Charlie and Bass. So this is what I ended up with. You can totally tell me if its utter shit.
> 
> (Also, I realize its a bit similar to my other work... That was a failed attempt at working with this song.)

He came to slowly, his head thick with cotton, temples pounding from the drink. His breathes felt heavy, the air around him thick and oppressive. Moving felt like too much work, his limbs weighed down with fatigue. It was a familiar feeling, but much deeper in his bones this time around. With difficulty he tried to remember where he was, what had happened before he succumbed to a drunken stupor. The inside of his eyelids gave him no answers, and with pained effort he opened his eyes to the dim light of the morning.

Even the weak, fog dimmed sun, was harsh to his swollen eyes. Bass glanced around slowly, taking in bare, patched walls. Nothing in the room but the bed he was lying in and an empty, shadowed crib. The view made his stomach lurch, a burning in his gut traveling to his worn heart. Memories from days ago filtered through his mind, pushing him back into despair. His heavy heart and inebriated state made more sense as the seconds ticked by. He had no doubt as to who had found him, and drug him from the depths of his self-loathing and misery. He closed his bleary eyes, trying to push away the grief that was surrounding him again like a hangman's noose.

The aging man tried to focus on his breathing, the room feeling more oppressive by the minute. It was as if all the pain of his life was crashing in around him again, pressing him to death like heavy stones. He didn't care how long he lived, the demons he was facing too much to bear.

"I'm here." Said a melodic voice, too sweet to be true — the fever in his mind imagining the vision of her.

"Baby." He said through, painful gasp of air.

"You're gonna be okay." She whispered into his skin. The cool lips on his forehead a reprieve from the harsh heat that seemed to radiate from his pores.

She sat by his side, humming soulful tunes he did not deserve. She never asked him where he'd been or the wrong he'd done. Never questioning his betrayal or why he left her to face their pain alone. Instead she sat vigil over his bed, reminding him of her love.

He didn't deserve the words she spoke to him. The gentle touches or warm caresses, but she gave them anyway, day after day. He knew that even when he passed, his body laid in the cold, dark earth, he would find his way back to her. She gave him everything and asked for nothing in return, he owed his soul to her.

"Come here." He murmured, urging her onto the side of the bed. She complied without resistance, settling into his waiting arms. The fever had left, but his demons were still ghosting around, the crib in the corner reminding him of his multitude of sins. Even with sad eyes she never questioned him, never fretted about what he'd done. He deserved her anger, lashes with whips for the crimes he'd committed against her. And yet, she never said a word about the days he'd been gone.

She was his angel, forgiving him when even the good Lord above already condemned his soul.

"I don't deserve you." He told her, his thumb caressing her ruddy cheeks. Tear paths stained into the tanned skin. She smiled at his words with no spoken contradiction. Her own hands reached up to touch his scruffy jaw, his absolution in her touch.

"You'll always have me." She promised, her lips settling on the corner of his mouth. He searched out her sweet lips, taking her soft kisses greedily. He wanted all the love she would give him, taking it with hungry hands over her silky skin. Regretting the way her hips flared, and breast weighed, for a babe that would never suckle them.

He put his confession in his touch, worshiping at the alter of her life. Every gasp and moan he could pull from her lungs a hymnal of his church. Nothing existed but her. The man made world was nothing but a horrifying dream. World pursuits were insignificant in comparison to her, even heaven and hell only words.

Nothing could hold him back from praising her. He'd always crawl home to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought...
> 
> XOXO


End file.
